Page 22 of Rubber Duckie Shifter Next Door

“A rubber duckie shifter…” she repeats softly.

I demonstrate.

Bam, duckie. Bam, human. Bam duckie. Bam human.

“I shift into a rubber duckie,” I say, even though it’s pretty obvious.

“You shift into a rubber duckie…” she repeats.

I wonder if I’ve broken her.

Several moments pass in silence. A rock forms in the pit of my stomach, because I’ve misjudged things. I thought this was the right thing to do, but any minute now, she’ll run away screaming, and I’ll never see her again. Never get to talk to her, or touch her, or be with her.

I pull her into my arms, possibly for the last time, and hold my breath, terrified to let go.

“So…” she says against my chest. “You’re like… a kid-friendly version of a werewolf?”

“Not that kid friendly.” I pull back and give her a once-over. And the boulder in my gut breaks apart and floats away on the backs of a hundred rubber duckies. “But I guess you could say that.”

“How’s that even possible?”

“I grew up in Shifter Bay.” For a supernatural, it would be explanation enough. Since Rachel’s human, I add, “Everyone from Shifter Bay shifts into the one thing they love most.”

“And you love rubber duckies.” It’s not a question. It doesn’t need to be. My love for duckies is everywhere.

“Hell yeah!” And you might shift into a full-sized cruise ship… something I can’t quite wrap my head around.

Rachel bites her lower lip as she mulls my duckie news over. “Does Reaper know?”

I nod. “He shifts into a hot pepper.”

Rachel bursts out laughing, and the sound fills my heart with joy. “Wait, are you serious?”

I nod.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I repeat.

“Okay, you shift into a rubber duckie, and Reaper shifts into a hot pepper.” She shoots me one of her adorable smiles.

“Are you sure you’re okay with it? Last time you saw me shift you…”

“Freaked out? I mean, can you blame me? I thought the kids had literally driven me insane. I was sure I hallucinated the whole thing. I thought I was having a mental breakdown!”

I pull her into my arms. “You’re not crazy, baby.”

She snuggles against my chest. “Well, now I know that…”

“There’s one more thing,” I whisper into her hair. Not the cruise ship part—that’s a problem for another time. “You’re my fated mate.”

“Fated mate…” Rachel breathes.

These days, practically everyone’s read or watched something to do with fated mates. Usually, a romance with animal shifters or the occasional vampire. So Rachel should know exactly what I mean.

Then again, Reaper once found a series of Aussie novellas where fated mates were couples who broke up because they were meant to be ‘just mates,’ the Australian word for ‘friends’… and no way am I risking Rachel mistaking what I’m saying for that clusterduck.

“We’re supernatural soulmates, Rachel. We’re meant to be.” I take her hand and place it over my heart. “I can feel it right here.”